𝐈𝐅 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 ― p. jackson ⁴ [ COMPLETED UNTIL SEPTEMBER ]

douze

★ 。＼｜／。★

𝗜𝗙 𝗜 𝗖𝗔𝗡'𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗥

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖎𝖙𝖗𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖚𝖟𝖊:
GERAS

★ 。／｜＼。★

MONDAY MORNING CAME quicker than Belle would've liked it to, and along with it, Annabeth broke into Percy's room at exactly four-thirty in the morning. Belle could've been categorized as an early riser sometimes, but four thirty was criminal.

She awoke to the sound of Annabeth's knife blade sweeping across the lock of Percy's bedroom window. Belle blinked a couple of times to clear the fog from her brain and picked her head up from Percy's chest where it had been laying. Percy groaned slightly and tightened his grip around her waist, trying to pull her in closer. Belle yawned and sat up a bit, watching as Annabeth slid the bottom pane up and climbed into the room from the fire escape.

"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?" Percy recited.

Belle paused for a second, glancing over at him. "Did you just quote Shakespeare?"

Annabeth smirked. "I'm impressed."

Percy rubbed at his eyes. "All you and SparkNotes, Beauty." He sat up as well, letting his arms fall from around Belle. "Uh, what's the occasion?"

Annabeth had on cargo pants with a tank top and a pair of running sneakers, along with her backpack. "I couldn't sleep. Figured we might as well get a head start." She took her backpack off of her shoulder and took out the pure Nectar Iris had given them, which was still golden and glowing.

"That stuff freaks me out," Percy admitted. "It looks like radioactive honey."

Belle grinned at him. "Good thing it's not radioactive, honey."

His eyes narrowed playfully. "I see what you did there."

Annabeth shook the jar, which made it glow much brighter. "I wanted to find out more about how concentrated Nectar works, so I talked to Juniper."

"You went to Camp this weekend?"

"Just sent an Iris-message." Annabeth sat on the edge of Percy's bed, staring down at the vial. "Turns out the Dryadic Coven keeps concentrated Nectar in their root cellar for special emergencies."

"The Dryadic Coven?" Percy repeated. "That's a thing?"

Annabeth put her pointer finger to her lips. "You didn't hear about it from me. Apparently, concentrated Nectar can heal a nature spirit on the verge of death, but it's risky. One time, this badly burnt oak Dryad got revived as a chunk of granite."

Percy seemed like he was about to drop again. "Okay."

"Also, the word Nectar means overcoming death. Did you know that?"